


Death On Two Legs

by sevenseasofrhye



Series: Queen [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, George Harrison is Queen's manager, M/M, Sexual Content, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-10-04 07:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17300417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenseasofrhye/pseuds/sevenseasofrhye
Summary: The 'A Night at the Opera' tour is about to begin.





	1. Bohemian Rhapsody

Brian follows Roger to the stage. He watches as the purple lights illuminate the drummer’s back that’s covered by a thin, white shirt. Roger glances over his shoulder and flashes Brian an enthusiastic grin. Brian smiles at him, excitement and nervousness filling his stomach. It’s the first show of the tour and it’ll take a while for them to get used to performing for an audience again. It’s been over half a year since their last tour ended.

 

Tonight they’re playing at Liverpool Empire Theatre for the first time. Brian likes visiting new venues and places. It’s refreshing, the change of scenery.

 

They are greeted with loud cheers from the audience as they take their places on the stage. They begin their set with a song from their new album, _Bohemian Rhapsody._ They’ve never performed the song live before.

 

As they’re nearing the end of their set, the audience is elated with them. They’re screaming, jumping and singing along. The noise is deafening.

 

Brian can see several people crying in the front row. They’re happy tears. It’s one of the things Brian has always loved about playing music; being able to evoke feelings in others.

 

They get off the stage and wander in the narrow, labyrinthine corridors as they look for their dressing room. Brian supposes they should have paid more attention to their surroundings when they were led to the stage by a member of the venue staff.

 

Brian sighs in relief when they run into (in Freddie’s case, literally) the stage manager. The dark-haired man looks annoyed as he rubs his nose that has collided with Freddie’s forehead.

 

“Hi!” Freddie exclaims, slightly too enthusiastically in Brian’s opinion. “We’re looking for our dressing room.”

 

The man gestures with his hand to a door on the left of him. With a disapproving glare at the quartet, he rushes off, tripping over his own feet.

 

“He seemed cheerful,” Freddie says when the man is out of sight. He shakes his head. “Being rude to performers isn’t good for the reputation of this place.”

 

“Well, you probably broke his nose,” John shrugs.

 

“No I didn’t. I have broken noses before. I know what it looks like,” Freddie states. “Although, a bit of rework could do his nose good, don’t you think?”

 

Brian rolls his eyes. “Let’s just go to the dressing room.”

 

The door creaks when Freddie pushes it open. Brian inhales sharply and tries to ignore the panic that clouds his mind; while he loves spending time with his three bandmates, he would much prefer having a dressing room of his own. He hates changing clothes in front of others. He should be used to it by now, but it terrifies him more each time. He isn’t comfortable with his body. Not in the slightest.

 

Brian makes his way to the corner of the spacious room where his clothes lie on a slipper chair. He struggles to tear off his shirt as the white fabric clings to his sweaty skin. Cold air hits his bare upper body – the dressing room has air conditioning, unlike every other place in the building. He feels exposed even though he knows no one is looking at him. He picks up a shirt from the chair and hastily puts it on.

 

Glancing at the others, Brian finds John and Freddie are ready to leave. Roger is standing in the middle of the room, laughing at something. He’s halfway through changing clothes and he doesn’t have a shirt on. Brian averts his eyes.

 

“Hurry up, Roger.” Brian crosses his arms over his chest.

 

Roger smirks. “What’s the rush? I didn’t realize you were so eager to go to the party.”

 

“What party?” Brian questions, frowning.

 

“You don’t listen much, do you?” Roger finally manages to put on a shirt. However, him bothering to button it seems to be too much to ask.

 

“No one’s said anything about a party.” Brian eyes Roger suspiciously.

 

“We might have forgotten to mention,” Roger says.

 

“We thought the chances of getting you to show up would be higher if we kept you in the dark,” Freddie adds with a triumphant grin.

 

“Well, consider your genius plan failed. I’m not coming there.”

 

Roger raises his eyebrows, looking thoroughly amused. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

 

***

 

The cab driver parks in front of a shabby-looking club. Brian clumsily climbs out of the cab after Roger. His legs hurt from having sat so crampedly in the back seat with Roger and Freddie. He makes a mental note to demand for the front seat next time; he’s the tallest one of them, after all.

 

Once they’re inside, Freddie heads straight to a group of oddly dressed people. Brian doesn’t know who they are and he isn’t sure Freddie does either. John looks hesitant, but follows the singer. Brian is left alone with Roger. Well, that depends on what one qualifies as alone; the place is crammed with people.

 

Brian and Roger fight their way through the crowd to the bar, sweaty bodies pressing and rubbing against them. Miraculously, they find two free bar stools.

 

Brian, who has his back turned to the bar, can distantly hear Roger’s voice as he orders something from the bartender. Brian stares at the multi-coloured flashing lights that illuminate the dance floor. His head starts to hurt and he turns away.

 

Roger is sipping on his drink and Brian finds an identical one before him on the counter.

 

“I don’t want to drink.” Brian has to lean closer to Roger for him to hear his words over the blaring music.

 

“Spoilsport,” Roger says with a smirk on his face.

 

“I don’t need alcohol to have fun.”

 

Roger pats Brian’s back. “Clearly you don’t. You look like you’re having _so much_ fun.” He pauses for a moment to order another drink for himself. “You’re always so tense. Loosen up once in a while. It won’t kill you, you know.”

 

Brian observes his drink for a moment. He decides Roger is right. There’s nothing wrong with having just one. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a gulp.

 

A thoughtful look expression appears on Roger’s face. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

 

Brian almost chokes on his drink. His cheeks are burning and he stutters something incomprehensible in response. Roger doesn’t listen to him, standing up instead.

 

“Roger, what are you–” The blond cuts him off by grabbing his hand and determinedly tugging him into the crowd. Brian attempts to free himself, but Roger’s grip is surprisingly strong. He has no choice but to follow him.

 

Roger leads them to a few women who start giggling when Roger introduces first himself and then Brian to them. One of them, a redhead with bright green eyes, has seemingly caught his attention. Roger leans close to her, so close that their foreheads are almost touching, which she doesn’t seem to mind. Roger says something, quietly enough for Brian not to hear him. That something is apparently hilarious, as the woman throws her head back and laughs. She places her hand on Roger’s arm.

 

Brian has no idea what to do. He tries his best to avoid all eye contact and to make himself seem invisible to prevent anyone from trying to make conversation with him.

 

Brian is surprised when Roger takes his eyes off his newfound companion for a moment to whisper in Brian’s ear: “I bet they’d all be eager to get it on with you.” Brian can feel his cheeks heating up.

 

***

 

Brian stares grimly at Roger and the woman from earlier, who are snogging next to the wall. He should have known the night would end with him being alone. A party where Roger doesn’t end up in bed with some chick, has yet to be seen.

 

With one last look at the drummer, Brian turns to leave. He hopes Roger will make it back to the tour bus safely. Although, he probably doesn’t have anything to worry about. Roger has never got into trouble while being drunk.

 

Except for that one time when Brian, Freddie, John and their manager George spent the whole day after a party looking for Roger, only to find out he’d accidentally ended up in the wrong hotel. He had passed out in the hall and according to a member of the hotel staff, been very confused the following morning.

 

When Brian finally gets to the tour bus, he makes his way straight to the bunks. He’s sleeping in the same the bus with John, Freddie and Roger. George and a few roadies are sleeping in the other one.

 

Brian rummages his luggage in search of clothes to sleep in. He finds shorts and a t-shirt and decides they will have to do. He clambers onto the top bunk and draws the curtains.

 

Brian falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, which is rather unusual for him since he normally spends hours tossing and turning and overthinking everything.

 

His blissful sleep doesn’t last long. He is awoken by a crash from outside the room. He’s still half-asleep and not quite aware of what’s happening. Is it morning already? Has he overslept and missed the soundcheck, or worse, the gig? No – that doesn’t seem very likely, seeing as it isn’t until half past seven in the evening. Besides, someone would have woken him up.

 

He freezes. _Was that a woman’s voice?_ As far as he knows, there shouldn’t be any women staying in the bus. Unless it’s the driver. Brian discards the idea as he realizes they have another show in Liverpool the next day, and therefore are not driving anywhere.

 

He tears open the curtains concealing his bunk and sees Freddie and John fast asleep in the lower bunks. When those two got there, he has no idea. Roger is nowhere to be seen.

 

That’s when it hits Brian and he almost groans out loud for being so stupid. All the memories from the party flood into his mind – most prominent being Roger flirting with the redhead. _And of course,_ Brian thinks,  _of course he has brought her here._

 

Brian hears what he believes is the door to the back lounge closing. They have an extra bed there and it’s the only place in the bus where one can get any sort of privacy.

 

Brian presses his head into his pillow and tries to ignore the noises coming from the other side of the wall as best as he can. It’s impossible – the bed is squeaking (Brian thinks it would be favourable if it happened to break down and interrupt the unholy actions taking place in the room) and the woman is practically screaming out the blond’s name. Brian wonders how on earth John and Freddie are able to sleep.

 

***

 

Much to Brian’s annoyance, the redhead is still in the bus the following morning. When he wanders into the kitchen to look for something to eat, he sees her sprawled next to Roger on a couch in the front lounge.

 

“It’s time for you to leave,” he says, pointing at the woman. His tone is soaked with venom despite the sweet smile on his face.

 

“But Roger said –” she starts uncertainly, but is interrupted by Brian.

 

“I don’t care what he said. The rule is that sluts leave in the morning. And he knows it, don’t you Rog?” _If looks could kill._

The woman seems offended by his words, but she doesn’t dare backtalk. In the blink of an eye, she’s out of the door.

 

Okay, Brian might have been a bit harsh. But it’s not his fault he didn’t get any sleep last night. He can’t make rational decisions when he’s dead tired. So technically, Roger is to blame.

 

“What the hell?” Roger hisses, glowering at Brian.

 

“Serves you right. You two kept me from getting any sleep last night.”

 

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t get laid,” Roger almost growls before standing up and storming out of the lounge.

 

It’s the second day of the tour and they’re already fighting. Brian thought they’d make it through at least half of the shows in UK without any conflicts, but it now it seems as though he was wrong.

 

“Why did you do that?” Freddie’s voice startles Brian.

 

“Stay out of it,” Brian mutters.

 

“Brian,” Freddie says, his voice stern. “It’s completely ridiculous to get angry with Roger for having sex. We’re on tour. What do you expect him to do?”

 

Brian grits his teeth. “I’m not angry with him for having sex! But they wouldn’t have needed to be so goddamn loud – he could at least save that for the hotel nights!”

 

 “We can’t have two of us constantly fighting or we’ll never be able to finish the tour. Don’t you remember what happened last time? When we were touring for _Sheer Heart Attack_ and Roger almost quit the band because of a fight between you and him?”

 

“That wasn’t my fault,” Brian says, biting his lip.

 

“Right. I almost forgot; saint Brian can do no wrong.” Freddie steps closer to Brian to ruffle the unsuspecting guitarist’s hair. He continues speaking: “Just do what I do; steer clear of the drama.”

 

“You steering clear of the drama? You must be joking!” Brian exclaims. In his opinion Freddie accusing him of being involved in drama is sheer hypocrisy on the singer’s part.

 

“Well, fine. Do what John does, then.”

 

***

 

Brian and Roger don’t talk to each other during the soundcheck apart from a couple of rude remarks. Actually, in Roger’s case, it’s more than a couple; during the thirty minutes they spend there, he’s managed to criticize practically everything about Brian, including his clothing choice and his guitar solo in _Killer Queen_.

 

However, when they go on stage, the fight between Brian and Roger is long-forgotten. Or at least that’s how it seems. Brian knows better. He knows they’ll be back at it again. The show is only a truce.

 

When the four of them are playing music, they’re in harmony with each other. They are divine, no mundane thing can get to them. The audience is theirs. The whole world is theirs. But Brian knows it’s merely an illusion.

 

He knows what it’s like being on tour; things pile up. All the arguments, cruel words thrown at each other, the sleepless nights. The alcohol and the drugs and all the foolish decisions stirred up by them. It’s chaotic. He can only hope they will all survive.

 


	2. As It Began

Brian doesn’t know how long they’ve been driving when he wakes up. As he opens the door leading to the bunks and proceeds to the lounge, he can hear Roger huffing: “I can’t believe you’re cheating again, Fred!”

 

“Look who’s talking! Not only do you keep making up new rules for your own benefit, but also _hide_ cards–”

 

“That was one time!” Roger exclaims.

 

_Oh._ So they’re playing card games. Or most likely _the card game_. The game Roger, Freddie and John came up with a few years ago; the game that never ends well.

 

Despite lots of persuasion from his bandmates, Brian has never played it. He doesn’t know the rules, but he has discovered that they involve shouting and tears. Sometimes even thrown objects and bloody noses – he can only hope they don’t go that far this time.

 

“Both of you, shut up,” John mutters, but the words seem to have no effect on Roger and Freddie, whose altercation doesn’t subside. Not one bit.

 

On closer inspection, Brian notices that there is a fourth participant in the game this time; a young roadie (Brian suspects he can’t be over twenty-five years old) who looks absolutely terrified. Brian feels sorry for the man. He wonders if the trio (or rather Roger and Freddie, since John’s behaviour isn’t particularly odd) will scare him enough to make him quit his job. Perhaps he should warn George about them possibly having to hire a new roadie soon.

 

Brian sits next to Roger on the couch. “Good morning,” he says. He gets no reply. He huffs, rolling his eyes and leaning back against the armrest. He observes the others absent-mindedly, witnessing Roger kicking Freddie under the table several times for apparently attempting to cheat. This earns the drummer a slap on his arm each time.

 

After a moment John stands up and exits the lounge without so much as a word.

 

“Did he just...” Freddie’s voice trails off. He has a look of sheer terror on his face.

 

“He won,” Roger says, his expression matching Freddie’s. Burying his face in Brian’s shoulder, he groans: “I don’t believe this! Why does he always win?”

 

Brian chuckles. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that he actually concentrates on the game instead of picking fights with his opponents.”

 

“You’re rude,” Roger mumbles into Brian’s neck. “I always concentrate. When have I not concentrated on something?”

 

“You and concentration don’t even belong in the same universe,” Brian says, amused by how easily he can annoy Roger.

 

“That’s so not true!” Roger snaps. “Freddie, tell him he’s talking nonsense.”

 

“I would, dear, but I’m not a liar.” Freddie narrows his eyes, as though he’s thinking intently. “Although, usually his comments aren’t too bright, _that_ you’re right about.”

 

Roger is evidently happier now that Freddie has insulted Brian too.

 

***

 

It’s been three hours since their show in Coventry ended. Freddie, John and Roger are in a bar near the venue they performed at. Brian is sitting alone in the tour bus. He didn’t give in and accompany his friends, not even when Roger promised him he wouldn’t leave him alone disappear with yet another woman. Roger has said that before – many times. And not even once has he meant it.

 

Besides, there is no need to drink every night. Or to sleep with a different person in every city they visit. At least John doesn’t do that. He usually stays by Freddie’s side at parties and other situations until the singer ditches him for a hookup. Brian feels sorry for him. He always goes along with whatever Freddie or Roger comes up with. Actually, mainly with whatever Freddie comes up with.

 

Brian’s scribbling lyrics on the margin of yesterday’s newspaper that someone has left in the lounge. He puts down his pen and studies the words written in messy, nearly illegible handwriting. Something’s amiss about them. Frustrated, Brian rips out the page, presses it into a ball and throws it in the nearest bin.

 

He’s about to head to bed when the bus door flies open and Roger stumbles in. He’s not alone. He has his arm wrapped around a woman’s waist. He whispers something in her ear, making her giggle. He kisses her along her jawline and his fingers twiddle with the hem of her skirt.

 

Brian clears his throat and only then does Roger seem to notice him.

 

“Hi,” he says, eyeing Brian carefully. Roger’s most likely thinking about the last time he brought a woman to the bus. There’s a slight possibility that Brian mighthave overreacted a bit. But this time, he’s not going to. He’s going to let Roger do whatever the hell he wants (it’s not like he could stop him, anyway). He’s not going to intervene.

 

Brian is about to reply to Roger’s greeting, but his companion interrupts him. “Hello,” she says, playing with her dark hair. She approaches Brian slowly. “Would you like to join us?”

 

Brian is taken aback. “What, I don’t – I mean,” Brian stutters, his cheeks heating up. “No thank you.”

 

“Are you sure?” Brian nods a little too vigorously. The woman has a smirk on her face. “Well, if you change your mind…”

 

Roger looks like he’s trying not to laugh. He throws Brian a grin and follows the woman.

 

The pair disappears into the back lounge and Brian is left alone once again. He sighs, mentally preparing himself for another sleepless night brought on by the sounds soon coming from the next room.

 

Brian can’t wait to get to Bristol – they will have a hotel night there and he’ll finally be able to sleep in peace. Unless he has to share a room with one of his bandmates, that is. He hopes that isn’t the case. Although, he supposes John would be fine. But Freddie or Roger? Not so much.

 

***

 

Brian’s wish is fulfilled. Well, sort of. He doesn’t have to share a hotel room with anyone. But that doesn’t stop Roger from showing up in his room at 2 a.m.

 

“What are you doing here, Rog?” he asks with a yawn, trying to suppress the urge to simply banish the drummer from his room.

 

Roger doesn’t reply. Instead he closes the door behind him and steps closer to Brian. His breath smells of alcohol. His eyes dart to Brian, then fix on the floor.

 

Brian frowns. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I just…” Roger’s voice trails off.

 

And then he does something extremely bizarre, even by Roger’s standards; he kisses Brian.

 

Brian freezes, his breath catching in his throat. By the time Roger pulls away, Brian’s sure his cheeks have flushed scarlet. He stares at Roger with his mouth agape, unable to think clearly, let alone form a comprehensible sentence. Roger leans closer to him again, but this time Brian pushes him away.

 

“Bri,” Roger whines. “I want to kiss you.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?” Roger asks, glancing at Brian. He looks very confused, as though he’d assumed Brian would be okay with this. Like it’s normal for them.

 

“Roger, you’re drunk,” Brian says. He shakes his head, forcing the sudden inappropriate thoughts of his friend to go away. “You need to get back to your own room.”

 

Roger gives him a perplexed look. “I don’t know where my room is.”

 

Brian sighs. “Let’s go find George.”

 

Much to Brian’s annoyance, he realizes Roger can’t walk without coming close to falling every few steps. How he managed to get to Brian’s room while being this intoxicated is a mystery. Brian figures they won’t be getting anywhere at this rate. He has no choice but to support Roger by wrapping his arm around his waist, even though he’d much rather keep his distance from the blond.

 

A wave of relief washes over him when they find George. Brian’s finally able to get Roger out of his personal space – he’s finally able to breathe properly again. As he returns to his room, however, he learns that even though Roger’s not there anymore, the thoughts of him haven’t gone anywhere.

 

***

 

It turns out the coffee Brian ordered was a waste of money. It has gone cold already and he has barely tasted it.

 

Brian is the only customer in the coffee house. He is painfully aware of the frequent angry glances the barista throws at him. He can tell she’s wondering whether to kick him out of the place or not. And he can’t exactly blame her; he’s sat there for almost two hours now, only having ordered a coffee he has left untouched. He’s reading (or rather, pretending to read) a newspaper in hopes of looking slightly less stupid than if he were just staring at the wall.

 

Brian isn’t particularly fond of coffee houses. In fact, the overly expensive coffee isn’t even the reason he’s there. No, the reason is that he’s avoiding Roger.

 

It’s not especially smart or productive as he will have to face him later in soundcheck anyway. Nevertheless, he wants to be as far away from him as possible, even if it is only for a few hours. He can’t guarantee he won’t yell at Roger when he sees him again. He’s incredibly frustrated with him. Why did Roger have to kiss him? Roger has done many stupid things while drunk, but never before has he taken things so far.

 

Brian decides the drummer deserves his fury. Roger can have sex with a different woman every night for all he cares. But drunkenly kissing his best friend? That’s definitely crossing a line. Surely Roger must realize that.

 

Brian exits the building. He gets caught in a downpour and curses himself for not bringing an umbrella despite having noticed the dark clouds before leaving the hotel. By the time he gets back, he’s soaked to the skin.

 

***

 

They’re through with their second show in Bristol, as well as their shows in Cardiff and Taunton. Roger hasn’t attempted to talk to Brian about what happened between them. It’s been four days since then. And as Brian lies in yet another hotel bed, in Taunton this time, he can’t help wondering whether Roger even remembers the incident. How much exactly did he drink that night? God knows Roger would never be interested in Brian while being sober.

 

Brian supposes it doesn’t even matter if Roger doesn’t remember. It meant nothing to him. It meant nothing to either of them. What matters is that it won’t happen again. Brian is going to make sure of that.

 

It’s way too hot in the room. Brian can’t be bothered to get up and switch on the air conditioning. He’s exhausted. He had hoped that all the nights he’d spent awake would guarantee him peaceful sleep, but unsurprisingly he isn’t allowed such luxury.

 

He can’t blame Roger for keeping him up this time, even though it _is_ Roger that’s keeping him awake. But he can’t control Brian’s mind. It’s not his fault that no matter how hard Brian tries to get the thoughts of him out of his head, he doesn’t seem to succeed.

 

What if the reason Roger hasn’t talked to him about what happened is that they haven’t had hotel nights since then? They’ve slept in the cramped bus where one can only dream of any sort of privacy. Maybe Roger is going to show up in his room again.

 

As the hours go by, however, Brian starts to suspect that Roger has no intention of disturbing his sleep this time. Maybe he took the hint and accepted that Brian wasn’t interested in a drunken shag.

 

To Brian’s surprise, he isn’t pleased by the blond’s absence. Not at all. Instead, he feels oddly disappointed.

 

He is quick to dismiss this thought. He’s not disappointed, he tells himself. He’s relieved. That’s what it is. Relief. He didn’t want Roger to come to his room. And he hadn’t. He wanted Roger to leave him alone. That, he had done. Brian got what he wanted. He is happy. _Very_ happy. He’s not thinking about Roger. And he’s definitely not wondering what would have happened had he just let Roger do what he wanted with him.

 


	3. I Should Have Known Better

When the driver steers the bus away from the hotel and the woman Roger presumably met last night is still aboard, the drummer’s bandmates pull him aside and ask him about this.

 

“What is she still doing here?” Freddie inquires, casting a gloomy glance at the woman who’s now rummaging the fridge. Making herself at home, it seems. As if she has any right to do that, Brian finds himself thinking. As if she has any right to be here in the first place.

 

Brian doesn’t know why he’s so bothered by her presence. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t belong here. She shouldn’t be here. Brian doesn’t even know _why_ she’s here. But he doesn’t have to wait for an answer for long. That doesn’t mean he’s pleased with the information he’s given. He’s not. Not one bit.

 

“She’s my girlfriend,” Roger says with a smile on his lips. “Her name is Lea. I met her yesterday. She lives in London and she’s travelling with us until we have our first show there.”

 

Roger’s not looking at his bandmates as he speaks, Brian notices. No, his eyes are fixated on _her_ , on the woman who appeared out of nowhere and who is getting on Brian’s nerves despite not having said a single word to him.

 

Brian knows he’s being irrational. But there’s just something so incredibly _irritating_ about the situation. And the fact that there is still a week to go until they get to London as they have three places to visit before it, doesn’t make him feel any better.

 

 “You have a girlfriend?” Freddie asks, looking thoroughly amused. “We’re on tour, darling, we’ll see how long you last without cheating on her. Especially since she will stay in London – what are you going to do after that?”

 

Roger glares at him. “Piss off.”

 

As much as Brian wants to throw Lea out of the bus, he can’t help feeling sorry for her. He’s sure Roger will get bored of her eventually. If she’s lucky, he will break up with her soon and she’ll survive without a broken heart.

 

You’d have to be crazy to let yourself fall for Roger Taylor.

 

***

 

“You must be joking!” Freddie exclaims, looking at George with as much horror on his face as one would be expected to have were they held at gunpoint.

 

George shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but Roger’s the only one who has use for the room. Besides, it will only be until London. After that he will be back sleeping in his bunk.”

 

The thing is, George has promised Roger the back lounge of the bus as he is the only one of them with a girlfriend. And Freddie is pissed. Actually, that might be an understatement.

 

While Freddie’s feelings towards everything are always clear as day, John rarely lets on about his. The last-mentioned hasn’t said anything, but he doesn’t look too delighted by the news either.

 

Brian is fuming. The reason as to why this is remains unclear to him. He doesn’t care about who gets to sleep in the back lounge, even if it would be nice to have some privacy. He also only brings company with him once in a blue moon. But the thought of Roger and Lea sharing the room makes him want to sulk in his bunk for the rest of the day.

 

 “It’s not fair!” Freddie attempts again. “Roger has always been your favourite one of us, hasn’t he?”

 

 “I don’t have a favourite. And may I remind you that it’s only until London,” George says, chuckling. With that, he heads out.

 

Freddie scoffs. “Roger couldn’t even tell us himself. He’s such a coward.”

 

 “Well, you _do_ look like you’re ready to kill someone,” Brian remarks, earning a glare from Freddie.

 

 “Speaking of Roger, where the hell is he?” John asks.

 

 “Probably somewhere with Lea, doing… something,” Brian suggests. He tries his very best not to think about the things they could be doing just now.

 

Freddie rolls his eyes. “I’m adding Roger and George on my list of people I’m never going to speak to again.”

 

John raises his eyebrows. “You have a list? Who’s on it at the moment?”

 

 “If you steal one more sock from me, you will be,” Freddie says with a huff.

 

 “I’ve never stolen socks from you.”

 

 “Is that so?”

 

Brian tunes out the rest of their conversation.

 

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice the woman standing in front of the bus when he wanders out and crashes into her.

 

 “I’m so sorry,” Brian says. “I wasn’t looking.”

 

The woman laughs and only then does Brian recognise her as Roger’s girlfriend. “It’s okay.” She bites her lip, her brows furrowing. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Lea.”

 

Giving her a tight-lipped smile, Brian shakes her hand. “I’m Brian.”

 

 “I suppose Roger told you about–” she starts and Brian nods. “Well, I should probably go. It was nice meeting you.”

 

 “You too,” Brian says.

 

***

 

They get out of a taxi in front of an enormous house about ten miles away from Gaumont theatre. It’s nearly midnight and the place is chock-full of people.

 

The others make their way inside, but Brian stays behind. He wonders whether he should knock on the window of the taxi he just got off of, which’s driver is currently fumbling with a cigarette pack and ask him to take him back to the tour bus. On the other hand, an alcohol fuelled night _does_ seem appealing.

 

In his moment of indecisiveness, Brian misses his chance; the taxi is gone with a cloud of smoke puffed out from its open window.

 

Of course, he could call up another taxi. But a bit of fun won’t hurt him, he decides.

 

Brian soon finds himself midst a sea of unfamiliar faces. He politely declines several offers of some suspicious substances – that might be a little _too much_ fun for him. Roger and Freddie must be over the moon, though. They’ve always loved parties like this. Nearly everyone is shitfaced and the people who aren’t having sex already, will most likely be later. Brian isn’t as thrilled by the idea as he probably should be. He will consider himself successful if he doesn’t end up in anyone’s bed by the end of the night.

 

Brian opts for sitting in a corner by himself (the floor isn’t particularly comfortable, but at least he’s out of sight so no one will bother him) with a plastic cup filled with some sort of orange liquid. He isn’t exactly sure of the cup’s contents, but assumes the percentage of alcohol to be high enough.

 

The people around him look happy. Delusionally happy, at least. Brian doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see the appeal of drinking until you can’t walk, of waking up with no memory of anything that’s happened and doing it all with a smile on your face and a laugh for dessert. He doesn’t understand how people do these things without a care in the world. He has always cared too much.

 

Brian narrowly dodges a woman’s heel that’s about to hit him in the face. The woman doesn’t seem to notice him as she currently has her tongue shoved down a man’s throat. Brian scrambles up, coming to the conclusion that perhaps the floor isn’t the best place to sit on.

 

For a brief moment, Brian thinks about dumping the remaining contents of his drink on top of the couple – yes, they’re preoccupied right now, but stepping on people can only be considered as rude. They _do_ need to learn their lesson somehow. However, his ingenious plan fails as he notices that there is nothing left of his drink. Weird. He could have sworn he had only drunk about half of it.

 

Brian proceeds towards the opposite end of the room, stumbling just a bit and earning glares from the people he accidentally shoves on the way. He smiles to himself as he notices Freddie and John talking to a group of people. Actually, it’s just Freddie talking; John keeps his mouth shut. He is sitting next to Freddie, so close that it makes Brian wonder whether the singer provides him with some kind of emotional support in the situation he’s obviously uncomfortable with.

 

Brian is about to make his way to them, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees something that makes his blood boil. Roger is sitting on a stool with Lea sitting on his lap. His hand is on the small of her back and they’re kissing.

 

Brian isn’t sure why the scene in front of him awakens such unpleasant emotions inside him. He can’t comprehend why he’s angry – or who he’s angry with, come to that.

 

Suddenly spending the night with a stranger doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea. No, it’s a good idea, Brian concludes. _Amazing,_ even. And that’s how he ends up leaving the house in the wake of the first woman who is interested in taking him home with her.

 

***

 

It’s four in the morning when she finally falls asleep. Brian gets up from the bed and throws on his clothes. He has lost a sock. He doesn’t bother to look for it.

 

He takes one last look at the sleeping figure. He can’t remember the woman’s name, even though he’s sure she told him at some point. But it doesn’t matter. He’s not going to see her ever again.

 

Brian feels slight guilt about leaving her like this. But it’s not enough to make him stay. He’ll suffocate if he has to spend another minute here.

 

Sleeping with the woman was a bad idea. She was certainly enjoying herself. Brian wasn’t.

 

It’s not that the sex was bad. It just felt wrong, and Brian has no idea why.

 

The door of the room creaks when Brian opens it. He continues his escape as there is no indication of the woman having woken up.

 

Brian breathes a sigh of relief when he steps out of the front door and into the night. The wind further messes up his already tangled hair and he’s trembling despite wearing a coat.

 

He decides to walk to the bus since it isn’t too far away – at least he thinks it isn’t. He recognised some of the places when he walked to the woman’s house. Unless they’re identical to some other parts of the city, that is. Which, now that he thinks about it, is worryingly likely.

 

To put it simply, Brian has no idea where he is.

 

After taking a wrong turn (or rather twenty), exploring several alleys leading to dead ends, and having a remarkably unpleasant encounter with a suspicious-looking man who kept asking him how he could get to a church, Brian finally finds the bus. He must have been wandering about for hours. Thank heavens they won’t have a show tomorrow.

 

His newfound comfort is replaced with annoyance as he finds Roger and Lea sleeping on the couch in the lounge. They’re both naked with only a blanket covering them, he notices, which succeeds in making his anger even more prominent. What do they need the back lounge for when they can clearly have sex anywhere?

 

Brian quickly averts his eyes, feeling heat growing in his cheeks when he catches himself staring at Roger’s back.

 

I should really get some sleep, he concludes.

 

***

 

“So,” Freddie breaks the uncomfortable silence, eyeing Roger and Lea who are sitting opposite him, “how did you two meet?”

 

Lea blushes and mumbles something Brian can’t quite make out. Roger gives Freddie a glare, which confirms what Brian has held self-evident ever since Roger mentioned he had a girlfriend; they met at some bar, they fucked and now they’re in a relationship. What a lovely story.

 

The conversation drifts away from the topic. To what exactly, Brian isn’t sure as he’s too busy staring grimly at his croissant. After having been forced to witness far too many kisses shared by the couple in front of him, he has lost his appetite.

 

Brian curses himself for deciding to come to the coffee house with the others. He thought he’d be social for once, but his plan backfired because no one bothered to tell him Lea was tagging along. When he stumbled into the building after Freddie and John and saw the woman sitting at a table (unnecessarily close to Roger, he might add), it was too late to turn back.

 

Brian is startled by John, who suddenly leans closer to him and whispers in his ear. “You might as well try to look less murderous. Lea is here to stay. You’d better get used to it.”


	4. London pt.1

They’re staying in a hotel in London for a little over a week as they have five shows there. And Brian couldn’t be happier.

 

He would like to believe his joy has to do with the fact that they’ll get a break from sleeping in the tour bus. They will have their own rooms – no more sleeping in the cramped bunks. They’ll get to eat properly, not having to rely on whatever they can fit in the tiny fridge of the bus.

 

But while Brian appreciates all these things, the reason for his delight has nothing to do with them. No, to put it simply, the reason is that a certain woman won’t be accompanying them anymore.

 

Of course, Brian wouldn’t admit this to anyone. His hatred for Leais a mystery even to himself. The mere thought of having to explain it to someone else is unbearable.

 

But for once he’s able to push her out of his mind. Maybe it’s because he’s exhausted and the hotel bed just happens to be so comfortable compared to the bunks in the bus.

 

It doesn’t take long for Brian to fall asleep. It doesn’t take long for someone to interrupt his sleep by knocking on the door of his room, either.

 

He yawns, standing up from the bed, more than a little annoyed that someone has woken him up after just a few minutes of peace.

 

Brian opens the door to see Roger standing on the doorstep. Brian finds himself ill at ease when he remembers what happened last time the blond showed up in his hotel room.

 

“What are you doing here?” Brian asks, trying not to sound as nervous as he feels.

 

Roger gives him an unimpressed look. “You’ve been here for five hours.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping this whole time. It’s four in the afternoon.”

 

Apparently it was more than a few minutes, then. “What do you want?”

 

Roger smiles. “See you in my room in five minutes! It’s the one next to yours.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “And take that with you,” he says, pointing to the acoustic guitar lying in the corner of the room.

 

Brian frowns. “Why can’t we just stay here?”

 

Roger shrugs. “Because.”

 

He’s out of the room before Brian has time to object.

 

***

 

“That bruise looks nasty,” Roger says, eyeing Brian’s cheek when the guitarist finally makes it to his room. “Where’d you get it from, anyway? I’m pretty sure you didn’t have it earlier.”

 

Brian glares at him. “You could have told me which one of the rooms next to me you were staying in. Turns out the lady from 307 doesn’t like strangers knocking on her door. She could’ve at least taken off her ring before she slapped me. That _hurt._ ”

 

“She – slapped you?” Roger asks, laughing disbelievingly.

 

“It’s not funny,” Brian says, struggling to keep a smile off his face.

 

Roger looks serious again. “She really did leave quite a mark. Do you need ice or something?”

 

Brian shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks.” He can’t help feeling pleased that Roger actually sounds concerned.

 

Brian watches as Roger makes his way to the windowsill and picks up a cigarette pack.

 

“Is that why we couldn’t stay in my room? Because you wanted to smoke?” Brian questions.

 

“Possibly.”

 

“You could have just taken the cigarettes with you,” Brian points out.

 

“Yeah, I suppose I could have. But I know how much you hate smoking and this way your room won’t smell like cigarette smoke.” Roger smiles, clearly finding his plan to be absolutely ingenious.

 

“How very thoughtful of you.” Brian says. He is left coughing when Roger blows smoke in his face.

 

“D’you want to play something?” Roger asks.

 

“Sure.” Brian repositions the guitar in his hands.

 

“How about _Love Of My Life_?”

 

Brian nods and plays the first chords, Roger soon joining in.

 

They have lots of fun playing the song despite the fact that Roger forgets the lyrics twice. Brian had almost forgotten how much he loves Roger’s voice. And how much he loves spending time with Roger. Now he’s reminded of both of those things.

 

After they’ve finished playing, they’re both sitting on the edge of Roger’s bed in a comfortable silence. Brian makes the mistake of glancing at Roger and finds himself unable to look away.

 

He has never realised how beautiful the drummer is.

 

Only that’s a lie. He definitely has noticed. He has just tried not to notice. It has never worked before and even less now.

 

Brian shakes his head and sighs, trying to get rid of these thoughts. Roger is his friend. People don’t usually think these things about their friends, do they?

 

“Are you okay?” Roger asks.

 

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” Well, it’s partly true.

 

“If you say so.”

 

***

 

It’s well into the night when Brian notices he’s forgotten his guitar in Roger’s room.

 

At first he thinks about getting it in the morning – he doesn’t want to wake Roger up after all. But then he concludes that Roger is most likely not sleeping yet. He’s almost always up until the small hours.

 

Brian figures there’s no harm in paying a visit to Roger’s room now.

 

As it turns out, he is wrong.

 

This time he ends up in the right room, at least. That might be where his luck ends.

 

As the door of Roger’s room opens, the first thing Brian hears is a voice that undoubtedly does not belong to Roger. The voice sounds from somewhere further aback in the room.

 

Brian’s heart sinks when it dawns on him – Lea is here. So much for getting rid of her, then.

 

Someone clearing their throat startles Brian and he notices Roger standing in the doorway. How he managed not to see him before is a mystery, but now that he has, he can’t help but stare.

 

The only thing Roger is wearing is a towel around his waist. He’s holding the towel up with one hand, which Brian gathers is because he was in a rush to cover himself up before opening the door. This in turn indicates that Roger was completely naked before and that Brian has probably interrupted him and his girlfriend in the middle of some _activities_.

 

Dammit. He really shouldn’t have come here.

 

“Brian? What are you doing here?” Roger asks, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of his voice.

 

“I… um,” Brian stutters, fighting the urge to smack himself when he realises he’s forgotten why he is there in the first place. Roger seems to have that kind of effect on him. It’s frightening, to say the least. “Never mind!”

 

He turns on his heel and hurries back to his own room, leaving behind a puzzled looking Roger. As soon as the door slams shut behind him, he collapses into his bed. He buries his face in a pillow sighs, the image of a shirtless Roger burned into his mind.

 

***

 

Brian shuts his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath when he hears the dreaded knock on his door. Opening the door only to see Roger anything but reduces his fear.

 

Brian has gone over dozens of explanations for his strange behaviour last night. However, now that he meets the reality of actually having to voice one of these very-not-made-up stories, he finds his mind in a state of emptiness.

 

To Brian’s relief Roger doesn’t seem to be waiting for an explanation. Maybe Brian’s desperate attempts to justify his doings won’t be needed, after all.

 

“I take it this is what you were in my room for last night?” Roger says, the expression on his face unreadable. Only then does Brian see the guitar Roger’s holding.

 

Brian mentally scolds himself for being so indescribably stupid. Of course, _of course_ that’s what Roger is there for. To return the guitar. The one Brian went to Roger’s room for, but managed to forget for he was too distracted by Roger.

 

Brian wishes the ground would swallow him up. Even more so when he realises he still hasn’t answered Roger’s question. “Yes – thank you.”

 

Roger places the guitar on the floor. Brian wonders whether it would be rude to ask him to leave at once because he’s making his head fill up with all these _thoughts_ he’d much rather not have. Well, even if it weren’t a rude thing to say, it would most definitely be _weird_. Brian concludes he should never, under any circumstances, say anything like that to Roger.

 

Every rational thought vanishes from Brian’s mind when Roger seemingly decides it’s a good idea to invade his personal space. He looks Brian in the eyes, a calculating expression on his face. He even has the audacity to bite his lip. Brian isn’t certain why this bothers him so much.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Roger asks.

 

The words catch Brian off guard. The vivid memory of Roger kissing him for the first time appears in his mind. But this time the situation feels different. This time the situation _is_ different. This time Roger’s sober.

 

Brian is about to object because it’s _wrong_ – Roger has a girlfriend and Brian definitely isn’t gay and he’s pretty sure neither is Roger – but somehow, even though he definitely means to say no, he hears the word _yes_ escaping his lips.

 

And that’s when he realises he can’t fool himself anymore. He wants Roger to kiss him. He wants Roger to touch him.

 

Brian’s heart is pounding as Roger steps closer to him. His lips brush over Brian’s, who momentarily forgets how to breathe.

 

Brian can feel Roger’s breath on his neck when his hands find their way to Brian’s waist and gently push him back until his legs collide with the bed. He loses his balance and ends up on his back on top of the covers. He props himself up on his elbows and looks up, his breath catching in his throat when he finds Roger’s face much too close to his. The blond’s pink lips are slightly parted, his eyes holding a glint of mischief.

 

Brian is uncomfortably aware of his body, or more precisely, his hardening cock. Roger doesn’t fail to notice this, a smirk finding its way to his face.

 

Running his other hand over Brian’s thigh, Roger tugs at the hem of his shirt and the guitarist helps him pull it off his body. He can’t help staring as Roger removes his own shirt and throws it on the floor.

 

Roger leans closer to Brian and connects their lips. Brian’s fingers tangle in blond hair as he pulls the drummer closer to deepen the kiss.

 

A small noise of displeasure escapes Brian’s lips when Roger pulls back. But then his mouth is on his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on the sensitive skin. Brian tilts his head back, his lips slightly parted. He pushes his hips up to Roger’s hand as the blond unzips his jeans.

 

Roger gets off the bed and pulls his trousers off, leaving them in a bundle on the floor. In the blink of an eye he’s on top of Brian again, pinning his wrists to the bed. “You’re so beautiful,” Roger whispers. He gently sucks on Brian’s nipple, earning a soft moan from him.

 

“ _Rog,_ ” Brian whines as the blond moves to press light kisses to his thighs. “ _Please_.”

 

Roger licks the underside of Brian’s cock, causing him to inhale sharply. He can’t stop the small noises from escaping his mouth when Roger continues working his tongue on him, pausing to kiss Brian’s hips and thighs every now and then.

 

“Why’d you stop?” Brian asks when Roger pulls back after a moment. He knows he sounds pathetic, but he can’t bring himself to care. He wants Roger to touch him – he _needs_ Roger to touch him.

 

That’s when he notices the tube in Roger’s hand. Weird. He’s just about sure he didn’t have it before.

 

He tenses up when Roger presses a lube-coated finger against his hole. _This_ he definitely wasn’t expecting. He can feel panic building up in his chest.

 

“Relax,” Roger says and leans up, placing a kiss on Brian’s lips. This manages to calm the guitarist down slightly. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Roger’s finger slips inside Brian and the latter struggles for breath. It’s painful at first and it definitely feels _weird._

Roger continues working his finger in and out of him for a while. Just as Brian starts to suspect he’ll never be able to get pleasure out of this, Roger crooks his finger inside him and he lets out a surprised moan. Okay. Maybe it isn’t that bad. Not bad at all.

 

“You all right?” Roger asks.

 

“Yeah.”

 

And then, without warning, Roger pushes in a second finger. His lips find their way to Brian’s, probably in an attempt to distract him. It’s not working, however.

 

When Brian has finally got used to Roger’s fingers inside him, a third one is added and Brian gasps, his fingers digging into the mattress.

 

Brian nearly whines as Roger’s fingers slip out of him after a moment. Roger’s hands gently guide him to turn around.

 

“Are you ready?” Roger asks in a husky voice.

 

Brian merely nods, unable to form comprehensible words. He waits impatiently as Roger rubs lube onto himself.

 

Brian shivers as the blond puts his hands on his ass. The head of his cock pushes against Brian’s entrance and he kisses his back, slowly pushing forwards.

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Brian gasps. “Keep going.”

 

“Are you sure?” Roger asks.

 

“Yes.”

 

Roger picks up a steady rhythm and soon they’re both moaning loudly. Roger wraps his hand around Brian’s cock and starts stroking him.

 

It’s not long before Brian is spilling into Roger’s hand. A moment later Roger comes inside him. He curses as Roger pulls out.

 

“Are you okay?” Roger asks.

 

“Yeah,” Brian replies, his voice shaky and his hands trembling slightly.  

 

“That was…” Roger says, cutting himself off when he seems to realise he doesn’t know what to say.

 

Brian nods. He can’t believe what just happened. Maybe it’s a dream and he’ll wake up soon. He certainly hopes so.

 

Except he doesn’t.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was my first time writing smut and it's probably awful, I'm sorry. 
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated as they really motivate me when writing <3


	5. London pt. 2

 

When Brian wakes up, the memories of the previous night flood into his mind. He’s facing the wall, a slight smile on his lips.

 

He closes his eyes, figuring he might as well try to get some more sleep. Roger’s still sleeping, so–

 

Brian frowns. He listens carefully. He can’t hear Roger’s breathing. He turns away from the wall and meets a sight that makes his heart sting; Roger is gone.

 

Roger probably regrets it, what they did on the night before. Of course he does. Brian should have expected it. Roger has never shown any interest in him, save for some drunken occasions. And even these rare moments mean nothing. Roger’s like that with everyone. He doesn’t have a sense of personal space – constant touches are a big part of his act. He’s always hugging someone, sitting on someone’s lap, kissing someone… Although, Brian has never seen him kissing another man.

 

No one seems to be bothered by Roger touching them. They enjoy it. Brian hates to admit that this applies to him, too.

 

It was stupid of him to think them sleeping together actually meant something to Roger. And he’s screwed now – how will he ever be able to act normally around Roger again? Is their friendship ruined?

 

Obviously their friendship isn’t ruined. The idea is laughable. Brian’s just being ridiculous – utterly paranoid and overreacting like he always does. It was just meaningless sex, he tells himself, there’s no way it could erase years of friendship. Sure, it might be a little awkward (the understatement of the year), but they’ll get over it. They’ll just have to forget about it. Brian supposes Roger won’t have a problem doing this. Among all the people he’s been with, Brian can’t have been anything special.

 

Brian, on the other hand, doesn’t want to forget about it. As much as he hates himself for it, as much as he tells himself otherwise, he doesn’t want to go back to being just friends with Roger.

 

***

 

Brian is starting to suspect Lea’s some sort of witch or something similar as she seems to have a truly magical ability of ruining his day.

 

Maybe he was foolish to think Lea’s visit at the hotel a couple of nights back would be her last one – she does live in London, after all. Why would he miss a chance of seeing Roger? Brian knows he wouldn’t, were he in her position. Not that he would want to be in her position. Well, perhaps he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, either.

 

None of Brian’s inner conflicts save him from the fact that Lea is, indeed, eating breakfast with his friends, looking stupidly happy, laughing and conversing with them. She looks like she belongs there in their company, something Brian hasn’t been able to relate to of late.

 

Or maybe that isn’t a recent problem. Brian has never been able to enjoy himself like the others. There’s always something bothering him, a constant nagging in his mind that won’t leave him alone, no matter what he does. Everyone seems to be making fun of him for it – especially Roger and Freddie.

 

Now, however, he has more immediate issues than whatever is trying to ruin his life; he needs to get out of the restaurant and back to his hotel room before someone notices him.

 

Just when Brian thinks he’s going to make it out without attracting any attention, John turns to look at him. “Brian! Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

 

“I… uh – I’m not hungry.”

 

“Yes you are. Stop being an idiot and come here,” Freddie says in a way so final Brian knows his objections won’t do any good.

 

***

 

Seconds feel like hours. None of them bring Brian any closer to knowing what’s happening – with himself, or with Roger. How he’d love to know. But lately, it seems, he’s in the dark about everything.

 

He’s distantly aware he’s been staring at Roger for a longer time than he, under the circumstances, should. Longer than he should under any circumstances. But Roger won’t meet his eyes so he supposes it doesn’t matter. The drummer is wilfully avoiding Brian’s gaze; whenever he isn’t casting adoring glances at Lea, he’s staring intently at John or Freddie and laughing slightly too loudly at something they’ve said. He’s doing a damn good job of pretending Brian doesn’t exist.

 

But it’s not just Roger. The others seem to have forgotten his presence too. Which would be fine by Brian, had they not invited (or more like forced) him to eat with them.

 

“Brian!”

 

Brian looks up from his plate to see a very unimpressed looking John. “What is it?”

 

John shrugs. “Well, it’s polite to answer when someone tries to talk to you,” John says, pointing at Lea who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.

 

“I just…” Lea starts, cutting herself off to give Brian a nervous smile. “…mentioned how we haven’t really talked to each other properly and how I’d like to be your friend.” Brian almost feels sorry for her when she seems to notice Brian’s uninterested expression. “I mean, only if you want to.”

 

“Sure. Whatever.”

 

Despite the deflated look on Lea’s face and the glares from his bandmates not being enough for Brian to replace his reply with something nicer, they are enough to fill his stomach with guilt.

 

***

 

“Roger!” The blond turns to look at Brian. “We need to talk.”

 

Roger shakes his head. He’s staring at the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Brian wishes he would just look at him. “Don’t mention it to anyone. Especially not her. Please?”

 

“I won’t.” Brian says after a moment of silence. And he means it. No matter how much Roger has hurt him, he can’t put their friendship at risk. And telling someone would do just that.

 

And then, without another word, without an apology for breaking Brian’s heart, Roger leaves.

 

He stands alone in the hallway until Freddie and John appear. He’s close to breaking down, but he knows he has to pull himself together – he doesn’t want to explain anything to his bandmates. And the far from friendly looks on John and Freddie’s faces don’t help in the slightest. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve them, either.

 

Except he does know.

 

He’s been distant. He’s been rude to everyone around him. He’s been moody and awful and he’s given no explanations to anyone – he’s not even sure he has any explanations. Empty justifications at best.

 

“Hi,” Brian mutters, not meeting his friends’ eyes.

 

It’s John who opens his mouth first. “I’m not sure what exactly your problem with her is, but you really should back off.”

 

“With who?” Brian asks, even though he knows very well who they’re talking about. It’s not like the woman in question doesn’t make anger boil in his chest with every word that comes from her mouth. The worst thing is that it isn’t even her fault. It’s Brian’s fault, Roger’s fault. Brian can’t bring himself to be angry with Roger though – he never promised him anything, after all. So, mostly Brian’s fault.

 

“You know bloody well who I’m talking about,” John says. “But since you’ve apparently decided to play an idiot, let me make this clear: Lea. I’m talking about Lea.”

 

“What about her?” Brian really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. Not ever, for that matter.

 

“You’re so rude to her! Why can’t you just act like a decent person?” John says.

 

“Yeah, she’s done nothing wrong,” Freddie adds, not helpfully at all in Brian’s opinion.

 

Brian shrugs. He has no idea what to say. He’s most certainly not going to tell the truth to them. And what good would that do, anyway? _I’m sorry, the reason I’ve been so horrible towards Lea is because I’m jealous. And I’m jealous because I’m in love with Roger–_

In love? No. He’s not in love with Roger. Nor will he ever be.

 

“You’ve been like this since the beginning of the tour, you know. Remember when Rog brought some woman to the bus on the first night and you threw her out?” Freddie says in a seemingly innocent manner, but still managing to make a wave of nausea sweep through Brian, because he’s so close to knowing and he can’t. He can’t know.

 

Brian goes with the first excuse that comes to his mind. Even though it’s not the smartest one, nor is it the most believable one, at least it’s _something._ “Maybe I just don’t like Roger getting distracted. It could affect his playing.”

 

“It hasn’t affected his playing on our previous tours. Why are you suddenly so worried?” John says, rolling his eyes as though he thinks Brian is absolutely ridiculous. And he probably is just that.

 

“Besides, the only one who seems distracted is you,” Freddie says.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“You are. Maybe you’re the one we should be worried about,” Freddie says and Brian hates him and he hates John because they’re right. He has been distracted. He has been distracted because of Roger. Whatever issues he has, have been caused by himself. Lea’s done nothing wrong. Roger’s done nothing wrong.

 

It’s always easy to blame someone else.

 

***

 

Their visit in London has finally reached its end. The hotel Brian thought he’d enjoy spending time in, but which turned out to be more like a nightmare, is no longer more than a tiny square that can be seen through the bus window. And they drive farther and farther away until the hotel is completely out of sight.

 

“You really need to stop that,” Freddie says.

 

Brian doesn’t turn to look at him when he replies: “Stop what?”

 

“Sulking.”

 

“I’m not sulking,” Brian says.

 

“Freddie’s right, you know,” says Roger, who’s just appeared to the lounge. He sits down next to Brian on the couch. “We’re on tour, have some fun!”

 

“I suppose that’s what you’ve been doing,” Brian mutters despite everything in him screaming at him not to bring it up. “Having fun.”

 

“Yeah,” Roger says, shrugging.

 

And Brian knows that Roger is very much aware of the meaning behind his words. That’s why it hurts so much. Because with that simple response every last bit of hope Brian previously had of their night spent together meaning something to Roger has vanished.

 

Brian wishes it would be as easy for him to pretend nothing happened between him and Roger as it is for the other man. He wishes he could just smile and laugh without Roger’s presence affecting him in any way.

 

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel. Maybe he’s supposed to be angry, because why the hell does Roger think he can just turn Brian’s life upside down and then leave?

 

But how could he be angry when Roger’s sitting next to him, smiling at him, leaning his head on his shoulder? Perhaps it’s better to bury the feelings of longing and hurt he feels whenever Roger looks at him and settle for being his friend.

 

***

 

No one else seems to share Brian’s foul mood after the horrid gig. Maybe it’s because they aren’t to blame for whatever misfortunes and failures they faced on stage.

 

Broken drumsticks, stubborn cables, problems with the venue management… None of these matter. Brian, on the other hand, managed to royally screw up the timing more times than he deems acceptable. The audience didn’t seem to notice. Neither did his friends. Or maybe they’re just trying to spare his feelings.

 

Perhaps it’s the exhaustion getting to him. Surely sleep could fix that.

 

On his way out of the bar Brian gets a glimpse of John, Freddie and Roger who seem to be having a spectacular time without him. Maybe they’ve given up their attempts of trying to get Brian to cheer up and be more involved with the group. A smart decision, really. They must have realized they were wasting time. Brian’s a hopeless case. A horrible bandmate and an even worse friend.

 

On second thought, a drink would be of more use to him than sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, PLEASE comment! If there’s something you especially liked, your favourite scene, something you didn’t like, suggestions, predictions… or anything else that comes to mind. I love reading your comments, they’re all very much appreciated!


	6. Funny How Love Is

Warmth spreads through Brian’s hands from the paper cup of coffee he’s holding. He’s thankful for this, as it’s a particularly cold December morning in Newcastle with a constant wind pestering him.

 

He glances at his companions; John’s got a serene smile on his face and he seems somewhat disconnected from his surroundings. Brian’s only ever seen him looking like that when it’s just the four of them around – at moments like this he seems truly happy and comfortable.

 

Freddie’s sipping on his coffee, humming quietly and occasionally leaning in to whisper something in John’s ear.

 

Roger hasn’t, to Brian’s amazement, complained about the cold weather even once. In fact, he’s been oddly silent for quite a while now. But not the calm before the storm sort of quiet that is so very typical for the guitarist himself. No – Brian has a strange feeling that this silence holds a promise of something good.

 

“I still can’t believe we actually got Brian to spend time with us!” Freddie says with feigned amazement as they pass a group of chattering women.

 

Brian glares at him. “I spend lots of time with you. I also happen to be in a band with you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

 

“We do remember that, Brian,” Roger says. “And because of that it’s even more insulting that you rather waste your time looking miserable and ignoring everyone than talking to us.”

 

Brian rolls his eyes, but can’t stop a fond smile from making its way to his face.

 

“Exactly,” says John, seemingly having shifted his attention from whatever was on his mind previously to their conversation.

 

“I don’t do that!” Brian protests, slightly offended now that they all seem to be agreeing on it, even John. Because really, shouldn’t at least _someone_ be on his side?

 

“Don’t deny it,” says Roger. “You’ve been even worse lately, ever since this tour started.”

 

“Thanks a lot,” Brian replies, irritation creeping into his voice. “You know, if I had known you only asked me here to insult me, I would have stayed in the bus.”

 

“Like you always do,” Roger mutters.

 

“Excuse me?” Brian crosses his arms and turns around to face Roger. Freddie and John look mildly concerned at the progression of the situation – they have witnessed more than enough fights between Brian and Roger, many of which have sparked from nothing.

 

Roger looks almost guilty for a moment, biting his lip and looking down. He takes a tentative step towards Brian and settles his hand on the guitarist’s arm before he speaks. “Look, I’m sorry.” He pauses for a second, staring intently at Brian’s shoulder, looking as though he’s trying to find the right words. Brian notices he tightens his grip on his arm, almost like he’s afraid Brian will run away from him if he lets go. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I’m just worried. You never go anywhere with us after shows and–”

 

Brian flinches, anger flaring in his eyes once again. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried because I don’t get shitfaced every night? Because I don’t sleep with everyone I happen to meet?”

 

Brian knows he’s gone too far. Roger looks close to tears, which is notably rare for him, and Brian isn’t certain whether this is caused by his thoughtless accusations or Roger’s genuine concern for him and his refusal to listen.

 

Roger’s distraught state doesn’t fail to make Brian feel awful when he knows he’s to blame for it. In some other universe where he makes smart decisions he probably would have apologized to Roger by now. Unfortunately for both of them, however, this isn’t that universe and Brian stays silent. So does Roger.

 

Both of them stand frozen, terrified of doing more damage by stepping closer to the other or increasing the distance between them that some invisible force has deemed optimal.

 

This goes on until Freddie has apparently had enough and decides to intervene. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you need to solve it.”

 

Roger shakes his head, his expression changing from an upset one to one of indifference all too quickly. “There’s nothing going on.”

 

Brian nods in agreement, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets and biting the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood.

 

Freddie eyes them both suspiciously before shrugging and muttering something along the lines of “You better not let it affect the band.” He then wraps his arm around John’s shoulders (Brian isn’t sure if the tint of red on the bassist’s cheeks is from the cold) and continues walking.

 

***

 

The shows are longer nothing but a blur – colours, lights, noise, all muddled. Brian barely knows what city they’re in. It’s all starting to look the same. Street corners, coffee shops, street lights. People. Endless streams of people.

 

Their arguments have died down, silence now being the reigning condition among them.

 

A trail of bad decisions behind them and before them. Too many nights that end up in oblivion. Brian is starting to forget why he refrained from drinking before.

 

A week at a hotel in Glasgow. A week during which Brian spends too much time in Roger’s bed.

 

It’s all coming to an end. A temporary end, but an end, nevertheless. They’re nearing a sanctuary, light at the end of the tunnel: London. Or rather, the promise that London holds.

 

Their last show before they’re heading to America.

 

A month. That’s how long there’s between London and America. It’s a time so long it might as well last forever.

 

Brian gets to spend a whole month without his bandmates. A month without Roger. A month during which he will get over Roger.

 

It’s simple, really. All he has to do is stop thinking about him, stop feeling things whenever he’s in the same room with him.

 

Maybe he’ll even meet someone new. Surely that would help.

 

But right now he settles for listening to Roger’s breathing. The drummer is already asleep next to him. This is the last time, Brian tells himself. It’ll come to an end soon.

 

Soon.

 

***

 

It’s well past midnight when Brian concludes he needs a glass of water. His throat is sore and dry – maybe he’s coming down with a cold. He wanders to the kitchen and spends several minutes trying to find a glass in the dark, his drowsy state not particularly helpful during the process.

 

Brian turns quickly when someone grabs his arm from behind him and stares wide-eyed, a shout almost leaving his lips, only to be met with Roger. Brian sighs in relief – not a burglar or a monster of any kind, then.

 

“Christ, Rog–”

 

Roger hushes him, and Brian remembers that, indeed, Freddie and John are also in the bus – are sleeping in the bus – if they haven’t woken them up yet, that is. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“It’s okay. What’re you doing up, anyway?”

 

Roger grins. “Noticed someone sneaking in the kitchen, and naturally, I had to check. What about you?”

 

“I went to get water. I think I’m getting sick or something,” Brian says, barely managing to finish speaking before a yawn escapes his lips.

 

“You better not.”

 

“Like I can help it,” Brian mutters.

 

“You look tired. You should go to sleep,” Roger says, frowning as he observes Brian. He has the audacity to look genuinely concerned.

 

Brian shrugs. “I’m fine.”

 

“Okay, then,” Roger says, a grin appearing on his face. “Let’s go!”

 

“Where? In the middle of the night?”

 

“To the café, of course! The one right next to the bus.” Roger’s happy expression fades when Brian stares at him like he’s lost his mind. Maybe he has.

 

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Brian says, rolling his eyes. “It’s probably not open anymore, anyway, as it’s–” Brian glances at the wall clock “– _half past three._ ”

 

“It’s open,” Roger says and stares at Brian, and really he’s got to stop doing that, whatever it is that he’s doing – messing up any trace of rational thought in Brian’s head, that much is for sure – because it’s unfair for one to get everything they want simply by looking at someone.

 

“ _Fine._ ”

 

***

 

In spite of all expectations, Brian doesn’t end up having an awful time at the café. One could even say he’s enjoying himself. It is, after all nice to actually talk to Roger, laugh with him, be his friend, instead of whatever the hell they’ve been doing lately – with the non-stop arguments they’ve recently grown familiar with it’s really a wonder they haven’t killed each other yet.

 

“Brian?” Roger says, suddenly looking very serious and almost worrying Brian for a moment, until: “What’s your favourite colour?”

 

“I–” Brian looks at Roger, trying to figure what on earth is going on in his head and why he’s asking him about such thing all of a sudden. Maybe it would be for the best if he took Roger back to the bus to sleep. But Roger looks very much awake and not in the slightest sleep deprived, which is weird and completely unjust considering Brian feels like he might fall asleep any second and never wake up. Maybe Roger is just weird. That must be it.

 

“Brian?” Roger repeats and it’s in that moment that Brian realises that he still hasn’t replied to Roger’s question and instead, has been staring at him for a good minute.

 

“I don’t know. What’s yours?”

 

“Blue, obviously!” Roger says with slightly too much enthusiasm in his voice to be considered normal for their topic.

 

“Obviously?” Brian asks.

 

“Yeah. Blue is the best colour,” Roger says, crossing his arms, as if challenging Brian to argue.

 

“It’s not.”

 

“Oh? You do have an opinion on this, after all.” Roger puts his elbows on the table and leans his head on his hands, his face closer to Brian now. If it weren’t for the table, Roger would have undoubtedly ended up in Brian’s lap by now – because of his passionate approach to the intriguing subject, that is. “Tell me, then. What colour do you think is better than blue?”

 

Right. Colours. They are discussing colours. Ridiculous, really. But then again, Roger _is_ ridiculous. And apparently so is Brian, who for some inexplicable reason, is still participating in the conversation. “Uh… Green. And red. Yellow.” Yes, ridiculous, indeed. “And lots of others, too.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Roger says. And the best part? He looks genuinely offended. Brian laughs. Roger frowns. “What’s so funny?”

 

Brian opens his mouth with the intent of telling Roger just how ludicrous he’s being, but the words never end up leaving his mouth. Instead, he’s left looking at Roger, the words in his head turning into something completely different.

 

“Roger, I–” Brian cuts himself off. The table suddenly seems exceedingly interesting. Brian stares at it intently – a few more seconds and it might catch fire, he thinks.

 

“Yes?” Roger frowns. “Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah, I just…” Brian is sure his cheeks are bright red by now. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Brian nods.

 

***

 

This time isn’t supposed to be any different from the others. They’ve been doing this for a long time, even after all the promises Brian has made to himself about it coming to an end. It won’t. Any time soon, at least. And he doesn’t mind.

 

It’s simple, really. There is the world. And then there is him and Roger. When they’re together, the world doesn’t exist. Neither do Roger and Brian.

 

Except maybe they do.

 

This time isn’t any different from the others. Sure, it might be risky snogging in a venue dressing room. Perhaps it isn’t exactly a good idea to leave the door unlocked while doing something that’s supposed to be a secret. But they don’t think they’ll get caught – it’s the thought that counts, after all. No one else is supposed to be there.

 

And then someone is there. And they do get caught.

 

Brian reluctantly pulls away from Roger, about to tell them they should get going, as the others are probably waiting for them and all, but something stops him. Stops him from speaking, from moving, from breathing. Leaves him staring in sheer horror.

 

Not something. Someone. And not just someone. Lea.

 

Roger doesn’t notice her – his back is turned. He’s completely unaware of the chaos that’s slowly taking over the room. Until she speaks, that is.

 

“Roger?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is nearing its end – only one chapter left. 
> 
> Again, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, so please comment!


	7. Now I'm Here

The door is closed. Roger is in the hall, arguing with Lea.

 

Not arguing. Begging her for something, from the sound of it. For her forgiveness, most likely. Brian can’t be sure – the walls are soundproof enough to stop him from hearing actual words. He doesn’t dare open the door, doesn’t dare move from where he’s been standing for the last – how long has it been?

 

Long enough for him to have gone through three different states of panic, all of which would have looked the same to a passer-by; a blank stare directed at the door that now represents all the things wrong in Brian’s life.

 

It could have been minutes. Or hours. Brian doubts the latter. Surely Lea’s voice would have worn out from all that shouting, had it been that long.

 

No matter how prominent the dread is in Brian’s mind now, he knows the worst is yet to come. He’s not stupid enough to make himself believe it will be all right once Roger and Lea’s argument has died down. What’s the use of a few minutes of peace when he knows everything will (figuratively, he hopes) be on fire soon?

 

Brian doesn’t know what he should expect from when Roger comes back. _If_ he comes back, that is. There’s a possibility, and not so improbable either, that Roger will leave without him. Maybe it would be for the better. Sure, he would be left with the torment of not knowing what’s going to happen. But at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences – not yet, at least.

 

The more he thinks about it, the more certain he becomes. Roger leaving would be for the better. Definitely–

 

Speak of the devil.

 

Roger is standing in the doorway. Brian takes a step back, moves for the first time in however-long-the-time-may-have-been. He can sense it before he can see it – Roger’s sadness turning into anger. And Brian has a strange feeling that all that anger is about to be aimed at him, albeit wrongly.

 

“Roger–” While saying this Brian realises he probably should have kept his mouth shut. When Roger looks at him, he realises he _definitely_ should have kept his mouth shut.

 

“Don’t,” Roger says in a voice that is both eerily calm and dripping venom.

Brian observes Roger for a moment and against his better judgement, speaks again. “What–”

 

And once again, he is interrupted by Roger. Roger, whose voice is now lacking all the calmness it had a few seconds ago. “It’s all your fault!” Roger hisses, taking a step towards Brian, who in turn takes one back.

 

“My fault?” Brian says blankly. And all the fear, all the sadness, the panic he felt before is gone. Not for good, that much is certain – but for now. It appears that Roger’s anger is of a contagious kind.

 

“Yes.” Roger crosses his arms. “I lost her because of you.”

 

Brian laughs. Partially at his own stupidity – he knew it would end up like this and yet he pretended not to know, pretended they had a chance – but mostly at Roger’s ridiculousness. He can’t seriously be blaming him for this.

 

“As I recall,” Brian says, each word carefully calculated and laced with false sweetness, “you were the one who initiated this relationship – or whatever the hell this is. You were the one who kissed me first, you were the one who suggested we have sex.” Brian pauses to glare at Roger. “So don’t act like it’s my fault. You were the one who cheated on your girlfriend.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Brian doesn’t have to be told twice. It doesn’t take long for him to get out of the building.

 

He doesn’t even remember the walk to the hotel afterwards. He still ends up there, somehow.

 

It’s only when he’s finally in his room that he dissolves into tears.

 

***

 

Brian wants to break something. Needs to break something. So badly, in fact, that when he finds nothing in his hotel room he can break without knowing he’ll regret it later, he ends up punching the wall. Several times. Until his knuckles bleed, and after that too.

 

It doesn’t help. Doesn’t help one bit.

 

Neither does the continuous knocking sounding from outside his room and a voice shouting: “Brian, please open the door.”

 

He’s not planning to open the door. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. The mere thought of doing so makes him feel nauseous. Completely helpless.

He can’t face Roger again.

 

Brian’s just about to tell Roger to go away, when he realises the person speaking next is not Roger.

 

“Open the door. It’s Freddie.”

 

“Is Roger with you?” Brian asks.

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. Now, open the bloody door or I’ll tell George!” It appears Freddie has lost his temper.

 

“I’m not scared of him,” Brian mutters, not entirely sure whether Freddie can hear him.

 

“We’ll see about that,” Freddie says, and even with the closed door between them, Brian knows he’s grinning like a Cheshire cat. He has the upper hand now. But it’s not like it’s Brian’s fault – George _can_ be terrifying sometimes.

 

Brian opens the door.

 

Freddie steps in and Brian’s surprised to see he has kept his promise; Roger’s not with him.  

 

Freddie stares at him for a moment. “What’s going on?”

 

Brian shrugs. He doesn’t look Freddie in the eye – the carpet happens to be very interesting, after all.

 

“Roger told me you won’t let him in.” Freddie sits down on Brian’s bed. “He told me you’ve been in here for hours. Avoiding him.”

 

“He made that up,” Brian says. He doesn’t know why he’s trying to deny it at this point, why he’s trying to deny anything, for that matter. But he’s not obliged to tell Freddie the truth and therefore he’s not planning to.

 

“Why would he have made it up?” Freddie asks, rolling his eyes and looking so thoroughly bored that Brian almost feels sorry for him. It must be hard having two of your bandmates fight all the time.

 

“I don’t know. I’m not avoiding him,” Brian says, making the conscious decision to keep digging his own grave. A horrible idea, really, but that seems to be all he’s capable of lately.

 

“In that case, I’m sure you can go talk to him right now.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re going to talk to him,” Freddie says sternly, in a voice that leaves no room for argument.

 

Brian decides to try arguing anyway. “No.”

 

“Brian. Please talk to him.” Freddie’s looking at him with pleading eyes, desperation evident on his face. And as much as Brian wants to refuse once again, the guilt slowly overpowering his mind prevents him from doing so.

 

“Fine.”

 

“And don’t make things worse.”

 

“I can’t promise anything,” Brian says.

 

“At least try.”

 

“Try what?” Brian asks, feeling his thoughts slowly drifting away from the conversation and turning into fear of what’s to come.

 

“Not to do anything stupid,” Freddie says. Brian notices he’s smiling.

 

“I never do anything stupid.”

 

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told and you know it.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

***

 

Roger is standing in front of him, looking nervous. Brian isn’t nervous. Not really. Not anymore.

 

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Of course he doesn’t. But he knows what might happen and for now that’s enough.

 

“So…” Roger starts, after which he coughs and looks down. Brian stays quiet. “I–” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

Roger takes a step closer to Brian. “I had no right to say all those things to you. I didn’t mean it – any of it, I swear.”

 

Brian stares at him.

 

“Can you say something, please?” Roger asks.

 

“I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Brian, please–”

 

Brian interrupts him. “I need to know. Am I just a substitute for her?”

 

Roger frantically shakes his head. “No, I swear. You were never a substitute for her. You will never be a substitute for anyone.” Finally, he’s meeting Brian’s eyes. “You’re my best friend and so much more. I love you.”

 

Brian smiles. He’s still not entirely sure he can trust Roger, but he knows that right now he’s telling the truth. “I love you too,” he tells him.

 

That’s when he notices the tears in Roger’s eyes.

 

“I’m scared,” Roger says, and he sounds so broken that all the anger Brian’s ever felt towards him is suddenly forgotten.

 

And maybe it’s foolish of him to forget, to forgive so easily after everything Roger has put him through. But then again, he reminds himself, he hasn’t exactly been innocent in all of it either. They’ve had their fair share of fights, all of which they both are to blame for. But they need each other, they’ve needed each other ever since they first met. And really, who cares about a couple of arguments if they can make each other happy most days?

 

Maybe this moment will be the start of something new, something promising, something worth holding on to.

 

“I know. I’m scared too,” Brian says.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter. Thank you all so much for reading! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️


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